I find waves of sentiment washing across my mood; this experience, with this boat and this crew, won’t be repeated. And it is precious.
All our plans changed, again, when a very stiff wind made it impractical to motor to Nantucket.
Five or six hours of rolling on the Arabella laid several passengers low, knocked out by nausea and Dramamine on the boat’s benches, covered with blankets, solicitous husbands bringing wet washrags to put across their foreheads.
Young and curly-headed, Captain Mike seems to have some of the fishy nature (so-called) of the captains who manned the whaling ships out of Nantucket in the last century.